


And in my dreams, i'm Christmasing with you

by SnarkyBreeze



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Plant Wrote This, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBreeze/pseuds/SnarkyBreeze
Summary: The presents appear to be arranged into four sections.  Some of them are big, worryingly big, and Yuuri wonders if he’s going to have to mail them home instead of packing them away in his luggage. Each little section is labeled with a little card that hints at its contents.Something you want…Something you need…Something to wear…Something to read…It’s sickeningly cute, and exactly the kind of thing Viktor likes, and Yuuri feels guilty just looking at the pristine packaging.





	And in my dreams, i'm Christmasing with you

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Secret Santa!! In the spirit of the holidays, I thought I would write this fluffy little gift-giving fic for [Bunny](https://instagram.com/bunnypireartwork). I hope you enjoy it!

December 23rd

 

It’s two days until Christmas, and Yuuri is a bundle of nerves.  He was so sure when he picked out that satin-finish, silver-blue wrapping paper a few weeks ago that it had been suitably distinguished and yet festive, perfect to fit Viktor’s tastes, but now he’s having second thoughts.

 

Nationals for Japan and Russia both coincide with Viktor’s birthday, forcing them to separate in order to both compete.  The consequences of their decision to try to make this work hit them way sooner than Yuuri anticipated, a swift and vicious introduction to their new normal.

 

He hasn’t been apart from Viktor since Makkachin’s steamed bun binge, and both of them were too nervous and busy to really text one another back then.  Now, despite the intensive training Yakov has been putting Viktor through, Yuuri has been receiving hourly snaps with adorable selfie filters, constant texts full of heart and sparkle emojis, and a surprising amount of cutesy talk for someone who won Skate! Magazine’s Smoulder award three years in a row.

 

Yuuri should learn to just stop being surprised.

 

Of course, it’s probably fine.  Of course, he’s probably overthinking it.  But he’s never wanted for something to be perfect quite like this.  

 

He didn’t even think about a present for Viktor until that night together in Barcelona, walking side-by-side in the Christmas market.  It was then Yuuri realized he wanted to do something to make this year’s birthday special. It wasn’t until later that week—when Viktor announced he’d be returning as a skater for Nationals—that Yuuri realized they’d be apart for the day itself.

 

All things considered, he’s kind of glad he won’t be there to give Viktor the presents himself.  Of course, he wants to. Of course, he wishes he could see the azure in Viktor’s eyes sparkle with anticipation as he peels back the wrapping paper to see what waits for him underneath.  But at the same time, Yuuri’s struggling to not feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing. This is his first time doing birthdays or holidays with a significant other, and both in one day?  He’s worried he may have gone a little overboard.

 

Yuuri knows Viktor doesn’t celebrate Christmas in December, but as he shopped (holed up in his room with a broomstick jammed in the sliding door panel in case Viktor came looking for him), he couldn’t help but feel the heat of excitement at the idea that for the first time in his life, he could make this little romantic gesture.  He’s dreamed for years of a romantic Christmas date, the exchange of a little, personal gift, of kissing by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree… He supposes he may have gotten carried away.

 

Which is why, in two days (hopefully, if nothing goes wrong with the delivery), Viktor is going to receive two gifts.  One for his birthday, and one for Christmas. And Yuuri will be able to hide his blush behind the continent separating them because he’s never done anything so bold in his life.

 

(Except for maybe the rings.)

 

(Except for maybe that press conference; what was he  _ thinking _ getting carried away with declarations of love on national television, knowing Viktor would be watching?)

 

He thinks he might have overdone it, because when has he ever had this kind of money in his life?  Between his prize money and his sponsorships, he was able to set aside a decent amount for gifts.

 

He’s stuck somewhere in between “Viktor’s going to hate what I bought” and “I bought Viktor too much” when he decides he absolutely  _ has _ to forget about it for now and get some sleep for his short program tomorrow.

  
  
  


December 24th

 

Viktor is all over the news when Yuuri wakes up, his return debut in Russia catching the attention of every major sports network.  He doesn’t even skate for two more days, but the days leading up to the national championships have been filled with interviews and exclusive training coverage as Viktor prepares to qualify for Worlds after only two weeks of preparation.

 

If anyone can do it, it’s Viktor, Yuuri thinks, watching Media Viktor recite the same spiel about missing the spray of the ice and constantly pushing to compete against himself.  It’s the same stuff he feeds every reporter, because it’s what they want to hear. This time, though, Yuuri is pretty sure it’s rooted in sincerity.

 

“And what about Yuuri Katsuki?  What do you think his prospects are in Nationals with you here in Sochi?”

 

Viktor directs a smile straight at the camera - not the media smile, but the warm, reassuring smile that Yuuri never saw until they started training together - and dismisses the question with a wave of his hand.

 

“Yuuri is Japan’s Ace.  If only one of us brings home gold this week, it’s going to be him.”

 

Yuuri can feel the heat rise in his cheeks as Viktor says that.  The thing is, the confidence in Viktor’s voice is mirrored in his face.  He looks confident - even assured of Yuuri’s ability as the reporter goes on to bring up Rostelecom and his performance in the free skate.

 

Yuuri can’t watch anymore.  He’d much rather talk to Viktor himself about this kind of thing, but Viktor won’t be awake for another six hours, so instead, Yuuri switches to the shipping tracker he’s had up and running in his web browser for the past week, refreshing every few minutes to see if it’s updated.

 

His packages are at least in Russia now.  But Russia is a big country, and they still seem so far away from their destination.

 

He refreshes about ten more times before Minako arrives and nearly bangs down his door. She’s clearly hung-over but still full of energy and excitement as she prepares to stand in as his coach for the first time since juniors.

 

And honestly, what could Yuuri ask for for Christmas, beyond this?  

 

(For Viktor to be here.)

 

(For the knot of nerves in his stomach to untangle itself sometime before he has to take the ice.)

 

(For Viktor to be here.)

 

It isn’t too much longer after Minako drags Yuuri out and into the hotel’s little cantina that the texts from well-wishing friends and family start pouring in.  Yuuri can tell without opening it that Phichit’s text is several paragraphs long even without all the emojis–a huge contrast to Mari’s simple “good luck”. He wants so badly to turn off his phone and ignore everything until he’s back in his room for the evening, but something might come from Viktor, so he keeps his notifications on.

 

For some reason, Chris sends him a string of eggplant and peach emojis.  He spends a few minutes on his translator app trying to figure out if there’s a pun in French or English or something he’s missing, but comes up with nothing.  He decides he’s happier not knowing and takes it as some sort of good luck charm.

 

Last time he competed in Japan, Yuuri drew the first slot.  This time he’s last, and so he spends the entire afternoon Snapchatting Viktor and stalking the progress of his packages from the rinkside, breaking only to meet Minami at the kiss and cry and rattle off a string of critiques that leave the young skater rattled and starry-eyed.

 

Viktor is in meetings for most of the day, and Yakov has him practicing any spare moment in between, but he manages to call just in time to give Yuuri his pep talk before he goes on.

 

“I won’t let anyone drag me away from the stream until you’re finished skating,” he assures, the low drone of his voice calming and all the same drenched in yearning.  “Now is your time to show everyone your love, Yuuri. Are you ready to do that?”

 

“I want them all to see I’m yours,” Yuuri sighs, trying to drown out the activity around him and drift away into the comfort of Viktor’s voice.  “I want you to see that, even though I’m here and you’re there, I’m yours.”

 

Viktor hums, like he’s not entirely satisfied with that answer.  

 

“What?”  Yuuri asks.

 

“You’re so much more than what I can qualify. You know that, right, Yuuri?”  Viktor says, not with reproach, but with love. “I want them all to see you. Not Viktor’s student Yuuri, but Yuuri, who Viktor has the great honor of being allowed to coach and love.  You see?”

 

The knot that has been tightening and easing in Yuuri’s stomach all morning jumps into his throat as praise beyond what he’s able to accept or even really comprehend washes over him.

 

“Viktor…”

 

“Go out and shine brighter than everyone else who skated before you,” Viktor continues, “but don’t try to be anyone but the gift that is you.  The audience, the judges, they have been granted the greatest privilege to be able to see you tell your story on the ice. If you give even half of what you gave at any of the Grand Prix competitions, you will blow them away, and I know you’re prepared to give more.”

 

Yuuri is practically in tears as Viktor continues to pile on his admiration and approval, but he cries in earnest when he realizes he has to go and get ready to take the ice.

 

“I miss you,” he whispers into the phone, his eyes stinging as he fights against the oncoming tears, determined not to disturb his makeup.  “I wish I could just come home.”

 

_ “Home,” _ Viktor repeats with relish in his voice.  “I love the way you make that sound, Yuuri.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you ten times over,” Viktor purrs.  “Now go, Minako will lose her mind if you’re not out there soon.  And Yuuri?” he asks, his voice dropping into a dangerous register Yuuri has only heard two times - once after the Cup of China and once the evening they got engaged.  

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“When you get on the ice, show me everything I get to do to you when I finally get you back home.”

  
  
  


December 25th

 

Nationals are over, and Yuuri is Japan’s champion for the first time in two years, but it’s Viktor’s birthday and that’s almost enough to take precedence over his victory. He was able to call Viktor before either of them skated, to hear his voice, wish him a happy birthday and generally recharge his energy, which drains so much faster when Viktor isn’t around.

 

He almost missed the victory ceremony because they had a snap streak going that he didn’t want to tear himself away from, even to receive his medal.   

 

The texts (and Twitter mentions, and headlines) about Yuuri receiving a gold medal for Christmas are unending.  He’s gone out and celebrated with Minami, who took silver, and Minako and his family. Yuuko and Takeshi were able to leave the girls with their grandparents to come and celebrate with him.

 

He’s drunk and exhausted when he gets back to the hotel for the evening, but he’s still got a few hours to push on and stay awake until Viktor returns to his own suite where, according to the shipping tracker and a phone call to the hotel’s front desk, his presents already await him.

 

Yuuri did it.  He never expected to coordinate and pull through something like this in such a short amount of time without Viktor even finding out.

 

He’s still worried, however, that it’s going to be too much.  After all, Viktor is going to come home to a gold pocket watch, engraved with the lyrics to  _ Stammi vicino _ on the outside and featuring a photo of them together with Makkachin opposite the clock face when it opens. He’d also receive a new leather planner, embossed with his monogram and embellished with gold leaf. Yuuri even stocked it with a collection of stationary items Viktor gawked at every time they went into Fukuoka to go shopping.

 

The whole thing feels so extravagant.  But then again, Viktor already bought Yuuri a suit for his birthday and spared no expense on tailoring.  Maybe this is just how life will be as Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.

 

(Nikiforov-Katsuki? They haven’t really discussed it yet.)

 

He’s not sure what he expected, coming back to an empty hotel room on Christmas Day.  He definitely didn’t expect to open his door to reveal a pile of gifts stacked neatly on the bed, wrapped in gold and red and green, with a card resting on top.

 

**♥ 勇利 ♥**

 

The characters are surprisingly good, considering Viktor’s Cyrillic is a jumble of untidy scratchings most of the time.  Opening the envelope reveals a card made from handmade paper, magnificently rustic-looking and at the same time so delicate, dyed deep red and stamped with gold hearts.

 

__ Yuuri, I know you said no presents, but I couldn’t help myself.   
I bet you got so many presents from your friends in Detroit, and I   
didn’t want you feeling lonely without me on such a special night!   
I hope you’ll forgive me for breaking our agreement.   
Congratulations on your gold~!   
I love you.   
I love you, I love you, I love you.   
I am so glad you stumbled drunkenly into my life.   
Merry Christmas, my dearest Yuuri   
  


_ Your loving fiance(!!!),   
Виктор _

 

For the second time in two days, Yuuri thinks he might cry.  He knows Viktor is due to take the ice any moment, but he whips out his phone and snaps a picture of the arrangement, adding the caption:

 

_ I can’t believe you! This is too much! _

 

A reply comes almost instantly, a selfie with hearts drawn over the eyes and Yurio skating in the background.

 

_ No amount of presents could... _

 

A second snap follows soon after, complete with a kissy face and drawn-on blush.  Yurio is addressing the crowd just behind him.

 

_...convey how much I love you ♥ _

 

Yuuri switches over to his messenger app to let Viktor know just how much trouble he’s in, but a text is already waiting for him.

 

_ Don’t wait for me to be done! _

_ Open them now! _

 

It’s so unfair, and Yuuri can’t believe he tricked himself into believing Viktor wouldn’t pull some sort of stunt like this.  They even discussed it, agreeing that they’d celebrate Christmas in January when they knew they’d be together and they could share in the festivities with the rest of the Russian team in St. Petersburg.

 

Then again, Yuuri didn’t exactly follow their agreement either…

 

The presents appear to be arranged into four sections.  Some of them are big, worryingly big, and Yuuri wonders if he’s going to have to mail them home instead of packing them away in his luggage. Each little section is labeled with a little card that hints at its contents.

 

_ Something you  _ **_want…_ **

 

_ Something you  _ **_need…_ **

 

_ Something to  _ **_wear…_ **

 

_ Something to  _ **_read…_ **

 

It’s sickeningly cute, and exactly the kind of thing Viktor likes, and Yuuri feels guilty just looking at the pristine packaging.

 

It feels so indulgent to do this, alone in his room with no one watching, so he sets up his phone so that it’s facing the bed and starts the camera.

 

(At least this way he’s sharing it with Viktor.)

 

(All he wants is to share this with Viktor.)

 

“I just want you to know you’re in a lot of trouble,” he snarks as he pulls the first present into his lap.  He’s counted; he’s got six to get through. “I did not agree to any of this.”

 

He pulls back the tape on the first fold torturously slow.  He actually quite likes to take his time unwrapping gifts, and he knows that later tonight, when Viktor watches this, it is going to drive him crazy with anticipation.

 

That’s just what he gets.

 

Yuuri’s going to have to see how long he can keep up this mad act.  It’s embarrassing and extravagant, but his heart is racing. He hopes he doesn’t let on just how excited Viktor’s surprise has him, because he needs Viktor to know just how much he overshadowed Yuuri’s own surprise.

 

So, tenderly, and taking the time to remove each strip of tape and stick it down to the comforter next to him, Yuuri meticulously unwraps the first present (Something you  **want...** ) and folds the gift wrap up for later.

 

He stares at the gift in his lap, unable to find the words to express himself as he takes it in.

 

“Viktor…” is all he can groan as he pulls a brand-new portable game device out of the box, its case light blue and patterned with poodles to match his phone.  He lets out a laugh in disbelief. “I guess I should have expected this, since Makkachin chewed mine up, huh?”

 

The next box contains two newly-released games.

 

“See? Now, this could have been enough,” he laughs incredulously.  “You’re so extra though, so here we are. Next one. Something I need, huh?”

 

(He’s still a bit drunk.  And that makes this so exciting.)

 

The next gift is its own little cosmos of what Yuuri is sure Viktor would call “necessities.”  It’s the biggest gift by far, and Yuuri discovers upon carefully peeling away the wrapping that that’s because Viktor bought him a luggage set.

 

A Louis Vuitton luggage set.  Matching. Probably worth enough that Yuuri’s GPF winnings alone couldn’t have bought it, and complete with little pouches and bags to organize his things.  Each little pouch has some sort of travel accessory in it, from facial spray to compression socks to a cooling gel sleep mask. But one little bag in particular catches Yuuri’s attention.

 

Mainly because it has a little tag that reads, “Open me!!!” in bright red letters.

 

As he unzips it he knows he’s in trouble, because there’s no way he’s not sending this video to Viktor, but there’s also no way he’s not crying his eyes out.  Because out into his lap falls a collection of little items that mean more than anything he’s seen so far.

 

A little plastic card, labeled entirely in Cyrillic, but which holds the fairly universal appearance of a transportation card.

 

Another card that appears to just be laminated paper, with login information for an online course in Russian.

 

A silver key with a heavy gold keychain, stamped with his name on one side, and “ **дом** ” on the other.

 

He knows that one.  The word for “home.”  

 

“You idiot, this is too much,” he sniffs, burying his face in the crook of his arm as he tries to compose himself, blinking away the outpouring of emotion that is trying to escape.  “I love it all so much.”

 

He has to stop the camera then, to take a moment and process just how much went into that single gift.  Just how much Viktor is saying with that one portion of this over-the-top gift he’s planned for Yuuri.

 

He told Viktor yesterday, “I just want to come home.”  He meant it. But he didn’t really think about home was.  Honestly, in his head, he pictured the two of them together in Hasetsu again, Makkachin sprawled out between them for maximum pets.

 

But of course this is how it’s going to be.  With Viktor training under Yakov and Yuuri training with Viktor.  Together in St. Petersburg.

 

Viktor is inviting Yuuri to come and live with him.  Together. In a place they can both call “home.”

 

Suddenly everything that has happened in the past month between them feels real in a way it hasn’t before.  Not even when they were standing together in the half-light of the chapel in Barcelona, fumbling through a proposal Yuuri wasn’t even aware he wanted until he made it.

 

This is only the beginning of his life with Viktor, symbolized in a collection of mundane little items in his lap, and Yuuri can’t believe how happy he feels.  How  _ lucky _ he feels.  

 

How badly he wishes Viktor could be there to share this with him in person.

 

It takes a few minutes of just crying it out before he thinks he can continue.

 

When he starts the second video in his bizarre unboxing series, his eyes are red and puffy, and he looks dead into the camera as he says, “I can’t believe you said I could just open this without you, you idiot.  I love you and I hate you and this is too much. This is enough to cover presents for the next five years, Viktor.” He sniffs again and sits back, turning to the next gift. “Something to wear, huh?” he says, balancing it in his hands, gauging the material of the contents.  It’s surprisingly light.

 

It’s about twenty silk ties.  All in different colors. With a note added in among them.

 

_ Any one of these will look better than that horrible blue one.   _ _   
_ _ Please, I beg of you, get rid of it.  Please. _ _   
_ __ ♥ B ♥

 

And maybe it’s the sake, or maybe it’s the emotions from the last gift still raw in his chest, but that makes Yuuri laugh harder than he has in weeks.  He laughs until his sides hurt, openly, here in front of this lens and eventually Viktor, and he thinks maybe this video will be enough to partially make up for the discrepancy between their gifts today.

 

(Partially.)

 

“I suppose I deserve that shade, Nikiforov,” he says through a different kind of tears, the joyful kind that come so seldom and so sparingly.  “I guess now that I have some replacements, I can retire that tie, but you can’t make me dislike it!”

 

He’s about to open the last gift when his phone begins to buzz, ending the video recording and flashing a picture of Viktor and Makkachin on the screen.

 

As he accepts the call, Viktor’s face appears in front of him, in real time this time.

 

“Yuuri!” he cries, and he’s actually  _ crying _ , a gold medal hanging around his neck, “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

 

It’s getting hard to understand just what the balance is in this relationship.

 

“Of course I did, Viktor, it’s your birthday,” Yuuri laughs.   _ “You, _ on the other hand, have gone overboard, sir.  You have so much explaining to do.”

 

“No, no, no,” Viktor protests, adjusting the angle of his phone for emphasis.  “You don’t get to say that. One, the first gift is reparations for a broken… game thing… that Makka ate.  I owed you that anyway—”

 

_ “Didn’t,” _ Yuuri interjected, “but okay, go on.”

 

“The second… well, you’re going to need somewhere to stay when you come to St. Petersburg to train, my love, and I’m not going to force you to find your own place!” Viktor says through little wet chuckles as he dabs at the corners of his eyes.  “You were welcome in my home the moment you welcomed me into yours, you realize that, right?”

 

Yuuri thinks his heart might explode.  He feels the tears start to prick at his eyes again, but he bites his lip, fighting them off.  “You’re too good to me, you know,” he mumbles. “I’ll never understand why.”

 

Viktor’s eyes go wide.  “Didn’t you open the last present?”

 

Yuuri shook his head.  “You beat me to it.”

 

Viktor urges him to open it now, with him watching, but Yuuri deflects just long enough to pull himself together by insisting Viktor open his first.

 

He has a feeling the sentimental value of “Something to  **read…** ” is going to rival that of “Something you  **need…** ”.  Just a hunch.

 

Viktor raves about the wrapping paper, how it looks like brushed steel and has hints of violet and indigo in different angles of light.  Yuuri feels the pride start to bubble up in his chest.

 

“Oh, Yuuri, I can’t believe you did this!” Viktor cries as he shreds the paper on the first gift, revealing the monogrammed planner.

 

“Well, you’re going to have to balance your duties as a coach and a skater,” Yuuri grins.  “I figured you ought to do it in style.”

 

“This is… wow!  So professional!  Dividers? Yuuri, you got me those pens!”

 

Viktor starts crying again as he opens the little velvet box containing the watch.

 

“All I’ve ever wanted was a man to buy me jewelry!” he jokes through his poorly-managed sobs, and Yuuri threatens to hang up on him.  After that it’s a barrage of sentimental mush filtered through sniffles and giggles, and Yuuri can only watch in awe as Viktor turns the watch over in his hands, opening it and toying with the mechanism, brushing his thumb admiringly over the engraving on the back.

 

“Sometimes… you know, we’re going to have to be apart, so…” Yuuri mumbles.

 

“No, I get it!  I love it! Yuuri!” Viktor cries.  It takes a few more minutes for both of them to calm down enough to go on.

 

Well, two gifts in and Yuuri might be hooked on giving things to Viktor Nikiforov.  Not even Phichit gives such satisfying reactions.

 

“Okay.   _ Shit. _  Okay.”  Viktor sniffs, thumbing away tears and blinking up at the lights overhead to collect himself.  “Please, Yuuri, all I want for my birthday is to watch you open your last gift.”

 

“Well, that would have saved me a lot of money…” Yuuri deadpans, sending Viktor into a fit of laughter, the kind he loves, so disparate from Viktor’s cool, untouchable persona.  The kind of throaty chuckle that has him wrinkling his nose and snorting, his face bright red.

 

Yuuri loves that he has access to that side of Viktor.  He loves that he’s one of the only ones.

 

“Fine,” he sighs.  He props his phone up facing the bed like he did before, although this time it’s made so much better by the addition of Viktor’s face, tired as it is, lit up with anticipation as he waits for Yuuri to reveal his final present.

 

Just as Yuuri suspected when filming himself earlier, his unhurried manner of unwrapping drives Viktor mad.

 

“What? You’re saving it?” he whines, as Yuuri gingerly peels off the tape.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s nice paper.  I could use it again,” Yuuri teases, unable to hide the satisfaction it gives him to get under Viktor’s skin like this.  “Besides, I want to savor this. It’s my first Christmas with my fiance, after all.”

 

That shuts Viktor’s whining up for as long as it takes him to recover, and that’s just enough time for Yuuri to pull the sheet of paper off and get a good look at the book it was hiding.

 

It’s a journal, leather-bound and unmarked on the front.  Yuuri opens it to the front page to find a note from Viktor.

 

_ My Dearest Yuuri, _

_ Ever since you came into my life, I have not been able to count the ways in which you’ve helped to shape me into a better man, a better skater, a better coach, and a better friend.    And I know I am not the only one who feels this way. As we travel around this year, I am going to give this journal to friends and family to write in, to let you know just how much you have influenced those around you for the better. _ _   
_ _ You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I can’t believe I am lucky enough to train with you. _

_ If you are ever feeling down, or doubting yourself, if you ever need help to remember how many lives you’ve changed and shaped through the years, I hope you can turn to this—a testament to your talent and love and charisma—to lift you up and remind you that you are loved, cherished, and admired by everyone you meet. _ _   
_ _ I will even get Yurio to write a page because he is too embarrassed to admit that even before you met in Sochi he was quite the fan. _

_ I won’t show him this page, though, or else he’ll never agree to it. _

 

_ Your friend and coach, _ _   
_ _ Viktor Nikiforov _ _   
_ __ 6/14/2016

 

It’s stupid to cry so much, Yuuri thinks, but Viktor cried at two little packages that didn’t even have unfair, sentimental notes like this, so maybe he doesn’t have to be so embarrassed.

 

“I can’t read this right now, Viktor,” he chokes, shutting the book quickly to avoid smudging the ink with his tears.  “I can’t read this in front of anybody, not even you, I’m sorry.”

 

Viktor’s got tears in his eyes again too, that sap, and but all the same he’s smiling with nothing but pure adoration at Yuuri through the phone.

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“I love it,” Yuuri says, and he’s not sure if he’s said that yet, but even if he has, it bears repeating.  “I love all of it, Viktor, it’s not fair I can’t kiss you right now.”

 

“I know,” Viktor says, his chin wrinkling in this adorable little way as he fights his own emotions.  “I know, but so soon, Yuuri. Just a few more days now.”

 

“Just a few more days,” Yuuri repeats.  Suddenly he’s exhausted, and he realizes it’s got to be well into the early hours of the morning now.  “Happy birthday, Viktor,” he croaks. “And Merry Christmas, and congratulations on winning Nationals. Happy everything.”

 

Viktor smiles.  “Merry Christmas, my Yuuri,” he says.  “Thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.”

 

They exchange I love yous and goodbyes a few times over before they actually hang up, and Yuuri instantly sends his two videos to Viktor’s cloud storage. He types out, “since I got to watch you open your presents…” and a winking emoji, then sends it before he chickens out.

 

Then he turns to the book, ominous in its simplicity now that Yuuri knows what’s inside. He will take the time and really read it sometime when he’s not practically nodding off. But after clearing the rest of his presents off the bed and collapsing against his pillow for the night, Yuuri can’t help but thumb through the pages, scanning names and whatever little words stick out to him.

 

More than half the entries are from Viktor, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t an impressive number of messages from other people. Yuuri counts his whole family, most of his competitors, Minako and Celestino, Morooka, even some skaters from other divisions and other sports.  His friends have all written something, even the triplets have their own page, brightly decorated with colored pens and drawings of Yuuri.

 

But punctuating everyone else’s notes were little ones from Viktor, like little updates from their year together. 

 

_ Yuuri, _

_ It astounds me how hard you work once you understand what your goal is. It’s as if figuring out what you want to achieve is the boost that puts you into drive. _

  
  


_ Yuuri, _

_ You move with such beauty on the ice it can be hard to focus on the technical stuff. I hope one day you can show me how your body becomes one with the music. _

  
  


_ Yuuri, _

_ Please never stop surprising me. You’re as defiant a student as I was, and I understand now why Yakov is always so red in the face, but I love to see you take control of your program. I love to see you create something that is  _ _ you _ _ and your own.  _

  
  


The very last page was also one of Viktor’s, longer than the little updates were.  Yuuri forgot his exhaustion for just a few minutes more as he read it, his heart pounding against his rib cage from everything this book held.

 

_ Yuuri, _

_ I hope by now I have taken the opportunity to tell you how I feel. I hope you know by now that over the better part of a year with you I have fallen so deeply in love with you and everything that you are. I hope I have told you how you danced into my life when I was at my lowest and lifted me up, showed me that I could have happiness if I only let it in. Yuuri, I am so glad I let you in. So glad that, in return, you opened up and allowed me to be with you, wherever you were. _

_ I will always love you, Katsuki Yuuri. I know I will not be your coach forever, but I hope that you will stay by my side even after you retire. _

_ Виктор♥ _

  
  


The note washes over Yuuri in pleasant waves, a warm return to the cozy weight of sleep threatening to overtake him. It’s enough to help him imagine that Viktor is there with him, whispering these sweetest things into his ear as he drifts out of consciousness, close and comforting and safe.

 

This is the best Christmas Yuuri has ever had, he thinks, setting the journal on the pillow next to his. 

 

He can’t wait to do it again in January.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, kudos and comments are welcomed and appreciated :)


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